Leave This Behind
by iwriteforme
Summary: Sam is hiding something from Dean. How will Dean react when he find out Sam's secret? Disregards NRFTW and Lilith.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise here from the show Supernatural is not mine. I do not own anything whatsoever! Not even an Ipod. I want an Ipod for my birthday!

"Dean!" the plaintive cry echoed through the cheap motel room, walls covered with flowered, yellowing wallpaper. Sam lunged at the paper Dean held behind his back, trying to wrap his long arms around his squirming brother and stretch just enough to grab the offending piece of paper squashed in his brother's fingers.

But Dean just stepped out of the way and ran to the other end of the bed, his lips spreading into the cheeky grin that was his trademark. "What you hiding from me, Sammy? Sweet on some girl, writing her a loooove letter?"

Sam stared at Dean, wondering quickly how he could get the letter from Dean without him prying. This was no joking matter. Dean would probably kill him, salt and burn his body if he knew what Sam had scribbled in that piece of paper. He stared at the grinning Dean, brows pulled together in a frown as small tendrils of fear started pulling at his intestines.

The grin slowly faded from Dean's face, replaced with a look of slight concern and curiosity. Sammy was trying to hide something, wasn't he? Well, Dean would find out. He always found out what was worrying Sam, and if he was not mistaken, there were definitely signs of anxiety flashing across his face.

Sam smiled and held his hand out. "Come on, Dean, it's not a love letter. It's just something I'm... just give it to me, I'll explain later." Sam tried to pull off a laugh, but it came out as a nervous giggle, and Sam knew now that there was no putting off Dean when he wanted to know what was happening.

Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead as his nervousness turned into fully fledged anxiety. He swallowed the bile rising to his throat, his adam's apple bobbing. Dean was staring at him with a mixture of surprise and stubbornness. Sam knew what that look meant. It meant that Dean was surprised that his Sammy kept secrets from him, worried about what this meant and if there was something wrong with his brother, and stubborn enough to go through hell to find out. The rustling of paper brought his attention back to the task at hand. Dean was smoothing out the crumpled paper and his eyes alighted on Sam's neat handwriting filling the page...


	2. Chapter 2

"Dean!"

The urgency in Sam's voice made Dean's eyes to leave the surface of the crumpled paper reluctantly and lift up to Sam's face. The worry and terror he saw in those eyes came like a punch to the gut. Sam looked like he was about to lose all control and put his fist through the cheap plaster walls. Anger and fear burned in his eyes, and for a split second, Dean was scared. Scared of Sammy. Scared for him.

The next moment, Sam rushed forward, catching Dean by surprise and pinning him to the wall, his gargantuan body pressed against his brother, crushing any hope or idea of escape. He manipulated long fingers between their bodies and pried the wrecked paper off Dean's clutching fingers. Turning around, he tore it into bits and threw it out of the window before Dean could get his stunned brain to react.

Dean took long strides to the window, watching Sam's secret float away in pieces on the wind. It just managed to increase the fear he had building in him lately about Sam's ideas to get him out of his damn deal. He was up at late hours on his laptop and calling Bobby everyday. Dean knew that Sam would do anything to save him from the deal, but he also knew that things would not be good for Sam if that demon bitch knew about these efforts. Sam would fall down dead and then Dean would be broken, dead, he didn't know how he could survive going through that heart wrenching agony again.

"Sam."

"No."

"No? That's all you can say? What was that?"

"Nothing that you need to know about."

Dean fixed his little brother with a stare.

"Is this another brilliant idea to save me, Sam? One more sorcerer, one more miracle healer, one more witch, one more hunter? Sam, I know you think you can save me from the deal, but it doesn't make any sense if you get yourself killed in the process."

"I don't care"

That did it. Now Dean was skirting the limits of his patience.

"Sam, whatever scatterbrained idea you have about saving me, let it go. You gotta accept this, dude. I'm a goner, the deal can NOT be broken. You gotta focus on the hunts, man."

"No."

"Damn, Sam, cat got your tongue? A little explaining here? What was in that paper?"

"I'm going out for a walk. I'll be back in a few."

And with that, Sam turned on his heels and walked out of the motel room, leaving Dean with his mouth hanging open in surprise and his mind in confusion. Why the sudden regression? Sammy just turned down a fully baited chick-flick moment!

Sighing, Dean suddenly felt weak and tired. He flopped on his bed, stretching his arms over his head, thoughts scampering around his head like terrified rabbits. Sammy, what are you doing? Are you even aware of how scared I am for you? What do you want me to do? The deal's done, Sam. You can't do anything to jeopardize my reason for living. I won't let you.

Sam walked blindly down the road, hardly caring about the traffic flitting all around him. His throat was tight, and if he wasn't a Winchester, he would have been bawling his eyes out. But somehow, with all the fear and the worry, there was a great deal of anger surging through his body. He could feel the blood rushing to his face when he thought of the words his big brother had spoken just minutes ago. Can't get him out of the deal, huh? Well, he can wait and watch. When Sam was determined to do something, nothing could stop him, not even Dean.

He stopped in front of a small coffee shop, entered and seated himself in a corner, thumbing through the dog-eared menu. There was no telling how long he was gonna stay out of the motel room, how long it would take for him to screw up the courage to face Dean. He was angry, hell, he was furious, but remorse stabbed at him at regular intervals. Dean did not deserve this. The endless guilt trips, the constant worry that he was going to lose Sam.

In the end, he just settled for a cup of strong coffee. Sitting there and sipping the steaming liquid, Sam suddenly felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. He was trying so hard to do something almost impossible, and he needed Dean. He needed Dean to back him up, to turn his fears into sarcastic jokes, to see the care and concern in Dean's eyes. He missed Dean. But he was not going to let this sliver of hope die down after these long months of searching. He saw his first ray of real hope when he found out the deal could be reversed, swallowing down the bile when he realised the sacrifice involved in such an act. But he could do it, he would do it. He had to save Dean. But Dean would never allow him to attempt this, never ever. Nuh uh. He had to keep his secret. Dean, you can't do anything to jeopardize my reason for living. I won't let you.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own anything.

Thanks for the reviews!

I am trying to find out how many chapters I can start with the word "Dean." ;)

"Dean."

Dean's head snapped up so fast from the guns he was cleaning that he was surprised he didn't get whiplash. It was one in the afternoon. His eyes came to rest on Sam, standing next to the motel room door and looking as if the cat ate his canary. The kid was always grabbing him hook, line and sinker with those puppy dog looks and Dean just sighed now. He knew what was going to happen - Sam was going to apologize that he had been a jerk, was never going to reveal his plans, and then they would have lunch like nothing happened.

"Sammy. Back from your long walk, I see. The exercise pound some sense into your brain?"

"Shut up, Dean. What are we doing for lunch? Am starving."

Huh. Not even the apology was on its way, never mind an explanation to Sam's freaky thoughts.

"McDonald's sounds good?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Okay, atleast he'd get to drive his baby again. The Impala was parked in the same spot for a day and a half now and Dean was missing the steady thrum of her engine and the warm steering wheel under his palm already.

"Okay Sammy, let's go. I feel the need to bite into a yummy burger and let its juices run through my arteries and veins."

"It's Sam. And it's surprising that anything runs through your arteries, they are already clogged with cholestrol."

Dean whooped, the Impala purring on the road. It was a really short drive, but he was just glad they were back taking his baby for a spin. Sam just sat there, staring out of the window, his eyes unseeing. The corners of his lips turned up in a wry smile when he heard Dean whooping, bringing with it a pang of pain. Dean deserved so much, more happiness than can ever be given to him. He was the best brother anybody could ask for, he had taken care of Sam from his childhood, sacrificing everything for his brother. His breathing hitched as he remembered how he had repaid that love and devotion by running off to college in his quest for a normal life.

Dean turned around, staring at the back of Sam's head as he heard the hitch in his brother's breathing. He suddenly felt dreadfully confined, not being able to find out what Sam was thinking, not being able to shield his brother from himself. Granted, the deal-day was just 15 days away, and Sam must be desperate to try anything that would work. Heck, if roles were reversed, he knew that he would be running around in panic, trying to do anything to stop the inevitable. But he didn't give up his soul for Sam to mourn and withdraw. He wanted Sammy to be happy. To be Sammy.

He sighed, wondering for the millionth time if he was selfish by making that deal. He was, wasn't he? He just didn't want to face a life without Sam by his side. And what about hell? a mocking voice rose in his head. Sam's not gonna be with you, Dean. You are going to die alone and you are just exposing Sam to more danger and pain than he can handle.

Dean shook his head fiercely, trying to clear the cloying thoughts from his mind. That was not true. Dean was offering Sam a chance at a new life, one that he had always wanted. Sam could go back to college, become a lawyer, get married and have kids. Have his normal, fulfill his dreams and most of all, be safe. Hunting was not exactly a walk in the park. You lived in constant danger, often discounting your life for the benefit of strangers. But saving people, giving them another chance, was the most rewarding experience Dean ever had. Dean never once regretted hunting, it was that and Sam that gave worth to his being. Argh, he was sounding like Oprah now.

Sam's phone rang, pulling him out of his stupor. He stared at the caller ID, a small spring of hope welling up inside him. Bobby.

"Hey, Bobby. Nope, Dean's here. Right, I won't. Ya, I did. Don't worry, I got it covered. I'll talk to you later. Yes, we are coming to the salvage yard in the evening. Will see you there, Bobby."

Uh.

"Sammy, dude, what the heck do you think you are doing? We are not going to Bobby's today, we have a vampire nest to take care of, remember? So shut up and get your head in the hunt, we'll drop by the salvage yard after we clean up those bastards."

"Screw you."

Huh.

"Back atcha, buddy boy. But you gotta listen to me. I am the one with the cool Impala, the kickass attitude and the amazing looks. Do what I say, wouldcha now? We got people to save."

"I'm going to the salvage yard. I don't care what you say, what you do. I might as well start learning to get around by myself, huh, Dean? After all, you ain't gonna be there to tell me what to do two weeks from now."

Dean stared at Sam, reeling from the shock of those words, feeling the feral anger coming off in waves from his body. But there was something else in those eyes too. Regret, pain, hope, helplessness, pleading, and misery.

How he wished he could end all of this once and for all.

Sam wished he could bite off his tongue, seeing the flicker of hurt pass over Dean's features. He wished he could reach out, apologize, wipe that pain off Dean's face, give him the world. But he just settled back in his seat, closing his eyes and willing himself to breathe slowly, calming down. Doesn't matter what Dean thinks. Maybe this was better, maybe Dean would hate him for that, maybe he would not feel the sting so much once his plan was in action.

This evening. Showdown. He would end this. Once and for all.

What do you think? Will Sam succeed in his plans to save Dean?

Review and let me know what you think. :) 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything :(

"Dean."

Bobby glared at the young man in front of him, hand literally in the cookie jar, guilty yet insolent eyes staring back, holding his own.

"What? I was hungry, and you ain't as quick as I thought you were, old man. Taking forever to make a coupla hamburgers and I am starving enough to eat the whole food supply of Texas. You won't believe how much I can pay for a nice burger right now. The last time I ate, it was afternoon! You just love torturing innocent guys like me, don't you?"

Bobby almost grinned at the indignant look on Dean's face. That kid could always put a smile on his face no matter what crap the day brought. Both boys were almost like his own and he loved them both to death. Dean, however, had the tact of annoying him endlessly, and Bobby often wondered how Sam put up with it. Dean constantly demanded and craved attention without realising what he was doing, a mirror of the gaping hole in his being during his screwed up childhood. He was loud, brash and insolent, but that was just a firm mask on his vulnerability. John had always taught his sons that vulnerability leads to getting you hurt or killed in a hunt, though Dean just followed it in every aspect of his life. Bobby's eyes darted to Sam, sitting at the table and typing away on his laptop, eyebrows knit together in a concentrated frown. The kid looked pale and confused, eyes searching the web pages for what Bobby knew was the words that would break this damn deal that has been hanging over my head for long enough. Almost a year, and Sam still researched, still stayed up late at night with his computer, still read hundreds of books in the hope that he could save Dean. But Bobby could see the effect it had taken on Sam. He was losing weight fast, there was bags under his eyes, and his jeans kept sliding down his hips if his belt was not secured. Not wanting to spark another argument between the brothers about the deal, he kept his voice neutral. "Sam, come on and eat yer dinner, else this idjit brother of yours gonna leave us starvin fer the rest of the day. Grab some grub while you still can."

That elicited a smile from the younger Winchester as he stretched his long body and pulled himself out of the chair. He ambled over to the sofa and helped himself to a burger, careful to take the least greasy one. Bobby always made the greasiest burgers in town, and while Sam himself was more of a salad guy, he knew how much Dean loved these little things. His eyes were closed in relish as he slowly chewed the food, body completely relaxed and stretched out on the couch. Suddenly, Sam felt bile rising to his throat, and he swallowed hard as he tried to keep his face impassive. Twelve days. If his plan failed, twelve days was all he had with his brother. Shit, where did the time go? He would not fail, there was too much at stake.

Suddenly needing to get away from the stuffy living room, Sam stood up, mumbled something about taking a walk and strode out of the small house bordering the Singer salvage yard, the smell of car oil and grease doing nothing to help the state of his stomach. Walking down the path toward the narrow trail leading off into the adjoining forest, he could feel the air get pure and cool, he could see the moon peeking out between the branches overhead. It was late evening and there was a cool breeze blowing his way, ruffling his hair and pushing it into his eyes. Heck, while he was out, atleast he could get a good look at the surrounding area, and decide where he could pull off the ritual without Dean noticing anything amiss.

Dean chewed his burger slowly, wondering what was up with Sam lately, the "long walks" really pushing his curiosity and worry. Seems like Sam was either working off his anger (which seemed eager to pop up at a moment's notice lately) or scouting the area looking for... what? mutant squirrels and demon owls? Sam seemed to be more cautious and jumpy, though Dean wondered why he should be. The deal was on his head, he should have been jumpy, listening closely for any sounds that could signal the arrival of the hell hounds. Dean wanted Sam to talk to him, spill the beans, let the cat out of the bag, whatever. Damn that Winchester pride and the ability to keep secrets. Twelve days close to watch his sibling die might tear any person apart (and Sam was as sensitive as a month old puppy), but if he knew anything about his baby brother, that would just result in him becoming more clingy than being aloof. And an aloof Sam Winchester was never a good idea. The last time he had been cold and silent was after Jessica, and then the storm of emotions that came roiling out left Dean reeling with shock and fear for Sam. And now...

Besides, it was getting late. Where was that twit now and what was he doing alone in the woods? Jeez, some kids just didn't learn not to invite trouble. Dean was the chick magnet, Sam was the trouble magnet. Oh well, his talents came from inheriting the Winchester good looks (and face it, he was the most handsome of the lot, wasn't he?)

Watching the sun set among the trees, Dean slowly got up and decided to go searching for Sam, tucking his gun into the waistband of his jeans (it didn't hurt to be careful, did it?). It should not be very difficult, after all he was a hunter, and he could pretend that Sam was a gargantuan Sasquatch. This could be a good game, he could get some action instead of lounging around the house, and he could find his emo freak little brother. With these three goals in mind, Dean set off at a low ambling walk down the same path his brother had taken minutes ago.

Had he remained in the living room, he would have noticed Sam sneak into the house through the back door, run up the steps, grab his backpack, and exit the same way he had entered.

Sam knew that Dean would go out looking for him. He would try to follow his brother's tracks and chew him out for roaming in the forest late in the evening. Sam was careful to lead Dean away with false tracks, and doubled back to serve his purpose. He had found the perfect place for his ritual. He had never noticed it before, and he wondered if luck was on his side, it was the perfect place to perform a ritual without being noticed. It was about a mile away from the salvage yard, and Sam had thought that it was a small grotto at first. On further inspection, it turned out to be a small cave, its walls covered with dewy moss and litchen. The floor of the cave was dry, and it was spacious enough and open enough to light a fire without detection. Now his plan was on. There were butterflies in his stomach, and a light sheen of sweat coated his forehead as he suddenly realised that if he didn't die carrying out his plan, he would be scarred for life. But nothing compared to the thought of getting his brother out of his deal, just to have him back, alive, breathing, and well, where no demon bitch could get to him to drag him off to hell. So he settled down in the middle of the cave, sitting Indian style, dragging the edge of his jeans away from his ankles and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Opening his backpack and taking out a long, shiny knife, he slightly thumbed the edge, feeling its smooth sharpness. It was cool against his skin, belying its deadly capacities. Placing it carefully on the cave floor, he broke some thick, dry twigs from the trees outside, brought them inside the cave and lit a cozy fire. Taking special care, he took out some chalk from the backpack and drew the necessary sigils in a circle around the crackling flames.

It was a pity that it was fire that destroyed his life again and again.

What do you think? Will Sam do something stupid? Will Dean be able to stop him? If you want something seen in the next chapter, just review and let me know! 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I changed my mind, I don't want an Ipod. Can I get Sam and Dean instead? They don't belong to me... yet (evil laughter)

Hope you guys liked the last chapter. Lots of limp Sam to follow and I'm trying to incorporate all your suggestions. The more, the merrier. Read on!

"Dean!"

Bobby glanced around the empty room, the small mess of crumbs and water that Dean had left on the table, wondering where the boy was. Something was not right, Bobby could feel it in his bones. Years of hunting had awakened a heightened sense for imminent danger in him, and he shivered as a cold chill ran up his spine. Dean was nowhere to be seen, Sam was not there too. Did the demon decide to collect early? She would so rot in hell, the bitch. He wandered up the stairs, into Sam's bedroom, and stood there for a while, staring at Dean's mess (again) around him, wondering what secrets Sam was hiding. His eyes fell on the laptop, wondering if Sam would see it as an invasion of privacy or just plain concern for his wellbeing. Never the one for shy denial of work, though, he decided to take a peek, Sam's thoughts were not necessarily important here, Sam's safety was. If he was hiding something, it would be on that freaking laptop, coz Dean rarely used it and Sam never let it out of his sight. What the Impala was to Dean, the laptop was to Sam. Darn morons. Bobby signed and flipped the laptop open, running a quick check on every document that Sam had stored in the computer, sure that he would find some hairbrained scheme to get Dean out of his deal. He was better than Dean at the computer for the plain reason that he had to do his research himself while Dean had Sam.

Eyebrows knit together, he peered intensely at the screen, scanning the words for anything that could lead him to Sam's wonderful secret. God, that boy was one huge trouble magnet. Sometimes, Bobby just felt like tying him up to a chair or to the Impala seat and taking off for a moment's peace. He scrolled down the names of the listed documents, looking for something, he did not know what.

What he came up with was so shocking that Bobby was left reeling at the intensity of it all. He stared at the bleeping screen in stoic silence, blood freezing in his veins. So, that darn idjit thinks he can pull this off? Sam was not doing this, no way. Not if he had a say in it. Cussing, Bobby grabbed his shotgun, loaded it with rock salt and left the room, slamming the door shut behind him, calling Dean on his cellphone. Gotta go save the Winchesters' darn asses again!

Sam closed his eyes, drawing his knees closer to his chest, trembling slightly at the anticipated pain. It was not the best idea ever, but with almost no time left to get his brother out of the deal, he was not going to let an opportunity like this pass him by. It didn't stop the nausea though, and he felt his stomach clench, his veins standing out in stark contrast to the pale skin on his arms. His stomach lurched, but his mind was made up. There were no double thoughts about this. If it worked, it worked. Dean would be saved. If it didn't, tough luck. Dean would be saved anyway. It was a win-win situation according to Sam. Of course, not knowing what would become of him if it didn't work did nothing to ease his anxiety. If everything went horribly wrong, he would be joining Mom, Dad and Jessica, wherever they were. He didn't know if he believed in a heaven, didn't know if there was anything pure at all in this world. Except one thing, of course. His brother's love. Dean's love for his brother was not tainted, it was pure like the morning rain and Sam loved him back with all his being. He would do anything for him. Anything.

He just hoped that if he didn't make it, Dean would find that note tucked under the shotgun seat of the Impala. His only chance to say goodbye to his protector, his best friend, his big brother was a few words scribbled in a dirty scrap of paper. Ironic, huh?

He shook himself out of these thoughts crowding his mind, stood up and started removing his clothes. Ha-ha, funny. Dean would get a huge kick out of this. Suddenly, he felt like laughing, thoughts of stripping for a deal running through his mind. His brother had reduced him to playing strip poker, huh?

Only in his boxers now, his skin tingling with the chilly wind, he sat back down and bent his head till it nearly touched his knees. The evening had quickly progressed and the only light illuminating the cave came from the fire. Inching closer to the fire, Sam pulled the knife toward him, gritting his teeth and aiming just below the elbow.

On second thought, he put the knife down and pulled his shirt toward him. Tearing it into rags, he started gagging himself with it. If he screamed, atleast he would not allow it to reverberate all around the forest as a desperate plea for help from Dean. He stuffed the straggling rags into his mouth, securing it tightly around his neck with his long sleeve. He only hoped that after the summoning, he would have the strength to remove the knot and speak to the thing.

Breathing deeply to calm his racing heart, he stretched out his arm, aimed the sharp blade to the soft skin of the inside of his forearm, raised the knife, and plunged it in.

White hot pain exploded inside his head, blinding his vision for a moment. He took deep, ragged breaths, trying to regain control of the situation, breathing through the agony. No sense blacking out at this, there was so much more to be done. He stared at the knife embedded in his arm, trickles of blood running down his arm. That was it? God, was he anemic? Well, he needed to get his iron levels checked with a doctor then.

But that was for later. It was a really big, huge maybe for later. Now he had to extract the knife. His ragged breathing pushing his chest up in nervous pumps, he curled the fingers of his hand around the carved blade of the knife. Gritting his teeth and curling up his toes, he inhaled deeply... and pulled.

The result brought only one consolation... he was not anemic. The knife dislodged itself from the flesh, leaving a gaping wound spurting extreme amounts of blood. But he had to get to the end of this.

Staggering to his feet, he stood swaying over the fire, his arm held up over it, dripping blood right to the heart of the flame. Tearing off the gag from his mouth, his parted lips chanted the spell, his words breathy but clear, spilling out in fluency after all the effort he had made to learn it for a whole day. He watched the crimson streams meander down his arm and drip, drip, drip into the fire, vanishing as they hit the center of the heat. Steeling himself, he prodded the wound with his finger, swallowing the bile when he watched it sink into the tissue. Retrieving his finger, he let the blood drip in a circle around the fire. The fire flickered, crackled, and suddenly roared up, catching him by surprise and causing him to instinctively move his arm away.

The air in the cave suddenly turned extremely cold despite the blazing fire. In fact, the fire seemed to have forgotten its properties and turned into a snowball, emanating a bone-chilling cold. At last, it was here. It was here.

Fuel me with reviews! Helps me write much faster. 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Still don't belong to me. How about an early Christmas present, someone?

Note: So, Sam is summoning something, entirely from my imagination :) Let's get on with it, shall we? And reviews help me write faster, keeps me motivated. You can also gimme any specific ideas which you would like to see in the story.

'Dean. My, my, so good to see you.'

The attractive face of the young woman in front of him was marred by the color of her eyes staring at him. Pitch black.

On reflex, Dean moved his hand to his belt, reaching for the gun tucked at his waistband, loaded with rock salt. It paid to be prepared, for sure.

The demon merely stared at him, her lips forming into a twisted smile. "Uh, uh, before you get all trigger happy and take potshots at me, let's talk about what Sam's doing to get you out of your deal right now. Or if you don't want to hear anything about it, go ahead and shoot me. I'll still get out of this meat suit, you'll be downstairs ahead of your time and looks like Sam won't survive this piece either."

Dean slowly withdrew his hand from the gun, taking slow breaths even though his heart was racing like a freight train. What in the hell did Sam do? And is this the end of the road for him? A tiny twinge of panic ran through his mind, but he held it in. He'd be damned if he let the bitch know he was scared. Okay, he was already damned. No time to think of irony now, Dean.

"What do you want, bitch? It ain't time yet, there's a week more. Much as I would love to say that the pleasure of meeting you early was expected, aren't you supposed to keep your end of the deal? It's not time yet." He sounded more cocky than he felt, and he hoped the demon didn't pick up on that. They were like dogs, and can sense fear from miles away.

"Yes, but unfortunately, there's some welching going on around here. News around is that your Sammy summoned a shultir. Tut, tut, that boy should know better than to be playing around with such dangerous creatures."

Huh? What in the wide world was a shultir, anyway?

"Ah, so the great Dean Winchester doesn't know what a shultir is, and he is too afraid to ask. I'm an excellent teacher, you know, your questions would be answered with pleasure. A shultir is a deal-breaker."

Now Dean didn't know whether to respond with fear, panic, or relief. Sammy came up with a way to get him out of his deal? But wait, if whatever he was upto was working, what is this demon bitch doing here?

"Where is Sam? If you've done anything to him, I swear to God I'll..."

"Relax, bud, I'm not doing anything to your precious Sammy. Whatever is being done to him is being done by him. Poor little Sam, don't you wanna save him? You don't even know where he is. As we stand here talking, the poor thing is being slaughtered to death in the hope that he can save you from the pit. Sure, if the ritual actually works, you're free. As much as it pains me to tell you that, you're free if Sam pulls off this abnormality. But he'll be paying more than he can afford in the meantime. He'll suffer for the rest of his life for his actions, Dean. Are you going to allow that?"

Dean swore under his breath. Demons lie, he told himself, demons lie. But if she was lying, why was she here? She didn't get anything out of this chance encounter, he was sure of that. It wasn't like he was being visited by demons everyday eager to have a teatime conversation with him.

As his mind tried to grasp the idea, the only thing that kept echoing around his being was 'Sammy might be in trouble.'

"Why should I believe you, demon? What's in it for you? Why are you here?"

The girl sighed with pretended exhaustion. "What can I say, there's so much demand for your soul, Dean. And as much as I would enjoy Sam's suffering for eternity, it's not going to look good when my boss gets on my ass about this collection." A brief flash of fear filled the black eyes. "So, for my wellbeing, as well as Sam's, I suggest you find him soon. I can lead the way."

The terror mounting in Dean's body did nothing to help him think this out. Okay, questions later. He needed to get to Sam right now.

"Lead the way. I'll be right behind you. Any monkey business, you'll be in hell faster than you can say Antichrist. And try to keep your mouth shut, I tend to get irritated with demons who think they are too smart for silence."

A smirk formed on the beautiful lips, but no words were forthcoming. She turned around and walked on down the winding pathway flanked by huge trees. The silence was overwhelming. Dean had to run a little to keep up with the girl, tiny though she was. He could sense the terror in the gait, and felt a brief flash of irrational pride. You rock Sam, you're nowhere near her and you still have her shaking in her boots.

His thoughts were cut off, however, when a primal scream of pain echoed around the forest, coming from the tiny cave in the clearing about a 100 feet in front of him. His blood ran cold as he broke into a run. Sam. That was Sam.

I'm coming, Sammy.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. --

"Dean! Get on with it, will ya?"

Dean lifted his eyes to the coal black ones staring coldly at him, not helping as he tried to dislodge the edge of his blue jeans from the sharp twig stubbornly holding on like glue. He shook his leg in desperation, terror running through his body as he heard another scream again, this time more muffled than the first. Bending down, he ripped the twig away, casting it aside and not caring that a big part of it embedded itself into the palm of his hand. The only words running through his mind at this time was Sammy, Sammy, save Sammy, Sammy, Sam.

"Dean, hurry up, will you? Only you can stop this! That damn idiot won't listen to me. Damn the Winchester stubbornness. This thing has gone too..."

Her rambling speech ended in a choked squeak, the void eyes turned darker still, pitch black, stony. Her face was locked in a surprised stare, slowly morphing into one of absurd pain. Dean didn't care, he couldn't wait for the demon's inefficiency, he had his little brother to protect. He ran toward the cave at the far end, his heart thudding like crazy inside his heaving chest, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. I'm coming.

A roar akin to thunder reached his ears, causing him to tense instinctively and he paused just a split second to turn around and see what was happening. What he saw at that minute blew his mind with the force of ten tonnes of dynamite that he froze to an absolute halt, unable to comprehend what was going on.

The demon was being expelled from the host's mouth, but instead of creating a black cloud and disappearing into the horizon, it was literally melting, melting, for hell's sake, and dropping in black, tarry puddles near the host's feet. A putrid smell rose from the refuse, taking over the freshness of the pure air, and as the last drops hit the floor, so did the woman's limp body.

Dean stared, his eyes almost falling out of his head, still frozen in shock. Did the demon just melt, did it die? What happened in there? Dead? Can it really be? What did Sam do?

That thought jerked him back to reality, albeit with a pain in the pit of his stomach. Sammy. Sam, Sam, Sam Iam.

He took off at a faster pace, running down the small path, his breath coming in short bursts of air, his lungs burning from the strain, his brain threatening to explode with barely contained horror. His brother was in there, doing something strong enough to melt the demon and kill it. His brother was out there, welching out of the deal. His brother was out there, probably dead, true to the clause in the contract (Huh? That's the influence his wannabe lawyer Sam had on him Useless information overload). His mind could not stand it, adrenaline pumped through every vein in his body and he skidded to a halt in front of the cave.

Taking tentative steps, Dean entered the little cave, choking a little on the smoky air. The remains of a fire glistened near his feet, still sending small spires of smoke into the atmosphere. Sam's knife lay next to it, covered in a thick red sheen of... blood.

Shit! Dean tried to keep his head straight, didn't want to succumb to the dizzying fear he felt, which threatened to overwhelm him. His brother's blood. Was it? The urge to gag was overwhelming, but he held himself in check. Come on, Dean, buck up. Sam needs you.

Still adjusting his eyes to the dimness of the cave, he searched the dark recesses for something, anything that could bring his brother to him. All he could make out were dark shadows, dull hulking rocks and slimy reflections of wet moss on the walls.

Suddenly, a movement caught the corner of his eye. His eyes shifted immediately to give him some clarity on that movement, desperately hoping it was his brother, and desperately hoping it was not. His voice came out in a raspy whisper:

"Sam? Sammy?"

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, a growing horror dawned on Dean. The big lump on the floor was bloody and messed up, and looked like it was ripped to pieces, meat thrown to the dogs. it was strangely silent, but overwhelmingly familiar. It was the same figure that Dean had held when it was born, cared for through all the teenage years, carried out well-planned prank wars with and who held Dean's very breath in his pinky finger.

Dean ran now, not caring about anything, dropping down on his knees, reaching out trembling hands. Sam.

So what do you think? Will Sam survive? What did he do exactly? Is Dean's deal null and void? 


	8. Chapter 8

Hey Guys, thanks for reviewing! Sorry for the delay in updating the story, a lot of work just ran around the corner and landed on my lap. But reviews are like fuel, they keep me going :) so please review.

Disclaimer: Same standing from the last time I checked. Am planning on asking Santa Claus for my wish this Christmas!

Dean shuddered in self-restraint, all he wanted to do was to pick Sammy up and run back to Bobby, maybe Bobby could patch him, Bobby was good at those things. But he hesitated to touch the bloody figure in front of him, his long fingers just falling short of the warm touch, feeling that even his smallest touch could break the fragile figure in front of him. God, there was so much blood. So much blood. Sam's face was covered in blood, and small trails pooled on the cave walls, smelling of iron and... blood. There was nothing else to it. Sam looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a freight train and lost. His arm was twisted in a weird way, Dean suspected it was broken, but there was nothing that looked like it hadn't been broken. Small tremors running through his taut muscles, Dean reached forward to the broken figure and placed his ear hovering on top of the bleeding nose.

Feeling weak with relief at hearing a breath, feeble though it was, Dean stood up on shaky legs and ran a trembling hand through his hair. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself, pushing away the overwhelming panic clawing at his heart, making him feel lightheaded. It would not help Sam if he broke down and the only thing Dean was worried about right now was Sam. Heck, worried didn't come close to what he was feeling. Terrified didn't come close to what he was feeling. Come on, Dean, come on, pull yourself together and help Sam, please.

He stood there uncertainly, torn between going for help and staying with his brother, he couldn't leave Sam now, not now. His addled mind somehow reminded him of the mobile phone in his pocket and he dug it out in a hurry, his fingers scrolling down the contacts list till a familiar name appeared: Bobby. He pressed the call button.

The next two hours passed in a blur. Dean felt like it was a lifetime and yet felt like it was two seconds. Bobby was there in five minutes, giving him orders to fetch the first aid kit from the Impala (which was back at the house, Bobby didn't know what was going on, so he had come with a salt-loaded shotgun, not much help at this time, so that was a precious ten more minutes wasted) and after he returned, he sat down on the cold cave bed and stared at Sam while Bobby patched up the broken man in front of him. It was hard going, the nonexistent light making work harder still, but Sam could not be moved until there was some semblance of himself put back together. But there was only so much Bobby could do and he turned to Dean, his mind made up to take Sam to the nearest emergency room. But he had to know what did this, it would make his work more easy figuring out how to patch Sam up.It was sad that they could not bring any vehicle down the narrow path, because transporting Sam back to the house was going to be a problem. Atleast the idjit boy was still breathing.

He looked up at Dean, calling him and shocking the boy out of his reverie. "Dean, tell me what happened here, I need to know."

Dean stared at him with glazed eyes, reflecting nothing but pain, horror and a certain numbness that preserved the sanity of his mind. But he quickly shook off the weight holding him down. The most important person now was Sam, anything for Sam, anything, what he wouldn't give to take Sam's place now.

"Shultir, Bobby. I don't even know what that means, I don't know where it went, can we kill it, is he gonna be fine, Bobby, what's a shultir, Bobby, SAVE HIM!"

The last words were screamed aloud, Dean was working himself into a frenzy, but Bobby barely responded. His mind was still in shock, trying to take in what Dean had just told him. With realisation came a growing dread. This was far from over. Sam would not die. Oh no, he won't. But the chances of him living were slim.

Even as he thought of all this, he was being shaken by Dean, trying to snap him out of his haze. "Bobby! Help him!"

Hesitating just for a second, Bobby glanced at the prone figure lying on the cave floor, blood pooling at regular intervals on the deep cuts, seeping out through the newly done stitches. Shit. Gritting his teeth, he bent down and picked Sam up, carrying him in a fireman's carry and walking slowly out of the cave. Dean stood in shock all this while, mind numbingly silent. After a while, he followed Bobby out of the cave, toward the little cottage which housed a junkyard too.

After a long tiresome walk, during which Bobby almost dropped with exhaustion, Sam almost seized around four times, and Dean almost threw up at the sight of his Sammy being in so much pain he could not move at all, they reached the cottage. Bobby at once placed Sam on the couch and ran into the kitchen, fetching some hot water in a bowl for Sam's wounds.

Dean rounded up on Bobby on the way out of the kitchen. Anger raged in his eyes, bordered by panic and agony. He growled at Bobby, standing in his way. "Bobby, we need to take Sammy to the hospital. This is not something we can patch up by ourselves. Now stop being a moron and get on with it."

Bobby just stared at the younger man, wondering how much of the information Dean would be able to take without breaking.

"Dean, sit down. The hospital can't help him now. Not now. It's too late. He contacted a shultir."

Dean remained standing stubbornly. "What exactly is that damned thing anyway? I am going to hunt down that bastard and kill him!"

Bobby sighed, walking around Dean and moving toward Sam lying on the bed.

"The good news is, you're out of your deal, Dean."

The shock in Dean's face was evident, the total disbelief. Bobby didn't know whether to laugh or to cry like hell for the man standing in front of him, in the process of losing the last of his family, yet saving himself. Damning himself for a fate far worse.

"Sam fulfilled his promise, Dean. He got you out of the deal. He got you out of your one way road down to hell. But, he paid a price. He's gone."

"Gone? Gone where? He's here, Bobby. We just need to look after him, we can take care of him, protect him. He'll be fine. He's still here."

Bobby sighed, something suspiciously like tears stinging his eyes when he heard the confusion in Dean's voice. God, wouldn't the Winchesters be given a break? Silently echoing Dean almost a year back, he thought, hadn't they lost enough already? Hadn't they given enough already?

"He's not here. He's gone, Dean. Into his own personal Hell."

How was the chapter? Please review! Work is also in progress on my other story, "Crawling on my knees."

Hopefully, I'll be motivated enough to not leave my laptop for even a second before I finish this story. ;) 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Nope, nothing owned by me.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I am really sorry it took me so long to update this story, but I had to travel back to my hometown to visit my relatives, some heavy stuff going on out there! But I'm back now and I hope to finish atleast one chapter every other day!

"Dean, you need to sit down, please" Bobby persuaded as he saw the young man sway on his feet, a dazed look in his usually vibrant eyes. Now all Bobby saw was exhaustion and anguish. It was pretty late in the night and the last hours were hard on all of them, though he had no idea what Sam was feeling.

There he was, propped up on the couch, his body resting but his mind wandering in some desert land of his own, that only he could make sense of. Bobby just hoped that he was able to find his way back home, home to Dean. That was where Sam belonged and he would never be at ease anywhere else.

Sam slowly woke up, his eyes fluttering open and a groan emanating from his lungs. He slowly took in his surroundings, whatever there was to take it. It was just absolute darkness, black for as far as he could see. He tried to remember where he was and why he couldn't see anything, but just the process of thinking was too hard on him and he felt the bile rising to his throat.

Resolutely pushing his first feeling of panic behind, he closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to clear his aching mind. He summed up all that he had remembered, he was back at Bobby's place, remembered plotting something, eating with Dean, walking away and into a cave... shultir... Dean! He had to get to Dean. With controlled actions, he moved his head slightly and opened his eyes again.

The scenery had changed, the black surrounding him was gone, and he was lying next to a gentle brook, the water bubbling away over sharp stones and smooth pebbles, the sky was blue above him, tall pine trees surrounded him and the sun seemed to be setting, the orange gold rays making the brook look like molten blue gold. He blinked rapidly, half expecting his surroundings to morph into something else, but it was still there.

Slowly picking himself up, he moved his limbs to test them. Finding nothing broken and some minor bruises down his arm, he became more interested in the woods. Where was he now? How did he get there?

A slight rustling among the bushes edged at the brook caught his eye and he dropped low immediately, steeling himself against any unseen attacker. Instead, the bushes parted and a huge brown dog came bounding up and jumped into the stream, enjoying the coolness of the water, looking vaguely familiar. The dog had a brown collar, with the name 'Maxter' engraved in a small copper medallion attached to the collar. Sam's eyes widened in shock. Max, Maxter was Bobby's dog.

Before he could complete that train of thought, though, Bobby came crashing through the bushes, looking for all the world like he was going to ground Max for taking off and jumping into the pool. "You idjit dog, come back 'ere." Bobby thoroughly looked disgruntled when Max took off from the water and proceeded to spray the droplets all over Bobby.

And the next thing that happened made Sam's heart thud so hard he was sure it would be heard in Tokyo. Dean came stumbling toward the brook, rubbing his sleep laden eyes with his palms. "Bobby, what the hell? This is what you woke me up for?"

A small smile pulled at Sam's lips as he saw the sleepy look on Dean's face. His brother was never a morning person and with his droopy face and messed up hair, he looked simply innocent and adorable. Sam had always regretted the fact that Dean had grown up so soon and tried to give him the freedom to push out a little of his inner child in the simple ways that Dean seemed to cherish greasy sandwiches and pleasant sleep.

Coming back to his senses, Sam decided that he ought to go forward too, at least give them the idea that he was here because Dean would worry otherwise. He pushed himself with a groan toward the brook, his sore muscles not being able to take the simple task of walking without putting up a vigorous protest.

Something that he saw then, stopped Sam in his tracks and shocked him so much that he was sure his heart was going to burst. A sturdy figure had followed Dean, dressed in the usual garb of blue jeans and grubby shirt. The sharp gait and the slightly insolent walk was imprinted in Sam's mind forever. He stared and stared, not getting enough, not being able to take in enough of the sight. A lifetime would never be enough.

"Dad?"

Bobby was freaking out now, Sam was behaving so strangely. His glazed-over eyes suddenly held a mad gleam of happiness, and his muscles were twitching, like he was trying to move out of his place. The stitches that Bobby had put in place were ripping slowly and he felt helpless against the sudden onslaught of action that Sam seemed to be in.

"Dean! Dean!"

So what do you think? Did you even expect John to show up? And what is Sam seeing exactly?

Review please!


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Don't own nothing.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story. There will be a maximum of four chapters after this chapter, then we come to the end of the line.

* * *

Dean just smiled up at his father, contentment shining through those beautiful eyes. Sam stood there in the shadows, still frozen to his place, unable to move because of the shocked tremors coursing through his body. Dad? Dad was back here? How is that even possible? His father, alive and beautiful, larger than life, smiling back at Dean. Looking so happy that Sam was still wondering what became of the serious-faced ex-military man who raised his sons to be soldiers.

Sam wanted to burst through the bushes, screaming that it could not be his Dad, he was so scared for Dean, Dad was dead, but Dean looked so happy that he hesitated slightly. Dean would have known if this wasn't his dad, Dean always knew. He knew the man better than anyone in this world did. Oh God, he was so confused, his head started aching like crazy. Pushing away the pain, he decided that this would be a good moment to make his presence known.

Drawing in a deep breath, he walked forward with hesitant steps, toward the little company of people that were his family, his life. His everything. He didn't understand what was going on, but the most important thing was that he be there with his family. He had run away from them time and time again, trying to shield them from a phantom danger that twisted his days with fear and dread. But now, he just wanted to feel his father's arms around him, telling him it would be okay. Dean would comfort him, his very presence soothing. Bobby would probably murmur 'idjits' and make them lunch. He ached for all of those things from the very bottom of his soul.

Dean was the first one to take any notice of him. He stiffened, stretching his body unconsciously toward Sam, looking unsure and confused. Sam smiled at him, his Dean was here at last, but the smile faded into confusion too. Suddenly, he found himself looking down the wrong end of a gun, his eyes followed the line of the strong arm holding it and resting on Dean's face. Something was really wrong. Dean's eyes were filled with... hate. There was no other word for it. Hate seeped from every fibre of his being.

Sam's confusion suddenly turned to terror. He was not afraid for his own life, far from it. But Dean, his Dean, was he looking at Sam? Sam felt his heart start to tear ever so slowly, leaking the life blood away from every nerve and sinew. Dean was looking at him, naked disgust in his eyes. Dean was holding a gun to his head. Dean hated him. Dean hated Sammy.

"Dad! The freak's back. Why in the hell doesn't he leave us alone? Why does he keep following us? Look, Sam, we are not going to hunt you down. We are letting you go scot free, for the simple reason that you were my brother once. But you can't keep running around us, trying to kill us one way or another. Touch Bobby or dad and your body will hit the ground before you say dingo, demon freak!"

The blood rushing through his head hardly made the words audible, but with it came the complete destruction of any hope he had left. What? Demon? He was not a demon! Couldn't Dean see? He was Dean's little brother, Daddy's little boy, Bobby's ardent geek. Demon?

The pain he felt when the trigger was pulled and the bullet lodged in his shoulder could not cover even an iota of the pain his heart felt as it shattered to pieces. As he fell into blackness, the only thing he could feel aside from the pain was the phantom touch of a gentle hand against his forehead.

* * *

Bobby watched in terror as Sam suddenly started jerking in his arms, his arms and legs splaying around in a disjoint fashion, the stitches holding his tattered body together reopening, blood starting to seep back out of the wounds and mar the pale skin again. Dean rushed to Bobby, his eyes going wild as he started to yell out, "Sam, snap out of it! You're safe, you're here, you're with me. Sam, Sammy, please!"

The desperation in his voice seemed to be the end to the moment that left them with their hearts thudding and their breaths hitching. Dean swiped his finger gently over Sam's forehead, a gesture of tenderness that surprised even him, feeling the absolute need to protect his brother combined with the agony of helplessness to do anything. His eyes traveled down the blood soaked body and he pushed back the tears pricking at his eyelids, begging for release. Not yet.

The determination in Dean suddenly grew to an infinite level. Sitting up straight on the floor and reaching up with his arms, he hauled Sam's mauled body into his lap and cradled the shaggy mop of hair against his chest. Bobby refrained from saying anything, warning himself that arguing with Dean when he was in this mood would just end in more disaster. Silently, he placed the first aid kit near Dean's knee, and was rewarded with a watery smile.

He watched as Dean slowly set to the task of stitching Sam up again, soothing the gaping woulds beneath his fingers, tears hitting Sam's bare chest as he tried to choke them away while patching up his little brother. Sammy was never meant to be seen like this. It tore Dean to pieces to see what he had done to Sam. It was because of his deal that Sam had done this, and though Dean did not regret making the deal, he regretted not being there for Sam when he had needed him most, pushing him to take the extreme measure of destroying himself to save his brother.

It took him a long time to finish the careful stitching he was intent on, the weight of his brother's body resting on his knees, the usually vivid eyes now clowdy and dim. As he watched Sam staring blankly at the ceiling, he sent a prayer to God asking him for his baby brother. God, I just want Sam back. Nothing else. Nothing else. Save my brother.

Gripping his brother tight against him, Dean let his sorrow flow out in a torrential flood of sobbing, while Sam's vacant eyes stared unseeingly into his own world.

* * *

Let me know what you think! Reviews are loved. You can also tell me what you want to see in the next parts of the story, and I ll try to deliver just that. Thanks!


	11. Chapter 11

Hey, am back again! Thanks to all the guys who reviewed!

Disclaimer: No own nothing.

So, in this chapter, we will know what a shultir does and what is happening to Sam. The only question is, can Dean save Sammy?

* * *

Dean was nowhere to be found. Sam searched frantically for him, waiting for him to be his lifeline, waiting for him to be enfolded in his big brother's arms again. But that was not to happen. He found himself sinking into deep oblivion again.

It had been twenty days since he had been transported to this godforsaken place and the seventh time that Dean had tried to kill him. Sam tried to make sense of it all, his heart breaking over and over again. How could Dean hate him? Dean was his big brother, his protector, his family, his Dean. How could he hate him enough to want to kill him?

In these times, Sam welcomed the darkness, wishing he could be Sammy again. Wishing he could be 'bitch' again. He surrendered to the inky blackness of peace.

* * *

"Sammy needs a hospital, Bobby. He can't stay here, we are not helping him, he's not coming back, I've tried, Bobby."

Staring back at the pleading eyes, Bobby felt his heart tear as he took in Dean's anguish. But that was not the way to go about it. The idjit should have thought twice before making the deal and his brother, the bigger idjit, before making his deal with the shultir.

The last twenty days brought no relief when it came to the younger Winchester's condition. He was on IV now, the liquid dripping into his blood stream the only thing keeping him alive. His normally vibrant eyes still remained glazed over, staring at nothing and at everything till Bobby nearly went mad himself.

He remembered a little 5 year old dancing around in his salvage yard, rolling around in the dirt with Bobby's dogs till he looked like a tiny rug rat dog himself. The picture brought tears to his eyes, but he blinked them back. He needed to be strong, as much for Dean as he was for Sam.

"Look, Dean, nothing can be achieved in a hospital that is not being achieved here. We've put him on IV, nourishing his body somehow and keeping him alive. His physical wounds are also healing well. This is not about his body anymore. Sam won't come out because he's living in a land of his own, a land where only nightmares come true. Everything bad that ever happened to him will come haunt him in any twisted way possible. That was part of the deal to which your idjit brother nodded his head."

"Making a deal with a shultir is not easy, Dean. Wherever Sam is, he would not remember much of what happened before. For him, the world he is living in has become reality. I don't know what is happening out there, but it must be pretty bad if it evokes all those seizures your brother is having at regular intervals. It is no use hunting or killing the shultir, it's job is done. The only satisfaction it got was doing it's job of spreading pain."

"That doesn't mean you give up. The only thing that could break these deals are the bonds of love and protection. For Sam to come out of that world, he has to believe that it is not real, that you are out here waiting for him. I believe that he can sense things happening here, he just can't sort it out in his muddled brain. All you can do is be there for him. Don't give up on him, Dean."

A wry smile stretched across Dean's face. "As if I ever could, Bobby."

* * *

Jessica walked along the calm river bank, her blond hair blowing into her blue eyes. Sam stared at her, taking in her beauty, her grace. He could do nothing else really. She was out of his reach. She didn't want him anymore, she said that if she ever saw him again, she would be in grave danger, and that he was selfish to come back to her. The hurt in her eyes when she accused him of not caring was so intense and the hatred in her voice so cold that Sam turned away from her forever, his eyes filling with tears.

Now, as he watched her, he wanted nothing more than gather up in her arms and tell her that he loved her. That he was not evil, that he would die for her.

All he could do was wrap long arms around himself and try to warm his cold and shattered heart.

* * *

Okay, that's about it for now. Sorry it was a really short chapter. I ll make up for it by making the next one extra long. I have the next chapter in draft already and am working on two chapters simultaneously. I have procrastinated enough and am taking a resolution to finish this story by the tenth, or else!

Please review, it helps me boost my poor ego and get on with the writing :)


	12. Chapter 12

Hi Guys, am back! We are nearing the end of the story now, maybe there are two chapters more to go. The next chapter is already in writing, am just waiting to put the finishing touches on it.

Thanks for all those who reviewed, they rocked my world.

Disclaimer: Nope, checked, but don't own anything.

* * *

Dean sat up in bed, staring out of the window as rays of sunlight invaded the darkness of the early morning world. He shivered a little, the air was cold and his nose felt numb. Sammy always used to tease him about his nose, it was the first thing that was cold when winter seeped in. Dean shivered more, trying not to let the icy breeze wrap around his heart too. He needed to hold it together for Sammy.

But he was tired. It had been a month since Sam was attacked by the shultir. He seemed to respond to outside stimuli, but it was not voluntary. He just sat there and stared into space as Dean force fed him some liquid food everyday, letting it run down his throat. Dean had to hold his mouth closed and rub his throat till reflex let him swallow. One bowl of mash took about ninety minutes to finish.

Tears stung Dean's eyes. They've been imposing on Bobby for a long time now, but he wasn't sure what to do if they were moving. He could take Sam to a motel in the impala, but then what? He sure as hell did not have any money to support them and he could not go out and earn money while Sam was in this state.

He rose to his feet, determined. He would go to Bobby and see if they could stay another month. He could repay him by working with the cars. He could not jeopardize Sam's health in any way and he would do everything to make sure that his baby brother was alright. Even if it killed him.

* * *

Bobby swiped at the big dog sitting on his truck. Weltner tended to drool on the paint and he was just sick of cleaning it off. Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned to see Dean approaching him, his face determined and terrified at the same time.

"Bobby, I need to talk to you."

Bobby straightened, taking in the fact that Dean's hands were shaking slightly. "Wattup, Dean?"

"It's been a month since we came here, and, uh, we've stayed for so long, uh, I don't know how to care for Sam out of here, Bobby. I was just wondering... er, if we could, um..."

Bobby sighed. "Spit it out, boy."

"ifwecouldstayforamonthmore."

"What?"

Dean's face suddenly took a turn toward a pleading look. "Please Bobby, can we stay for one more month, I promise we won't be a burden, I'll do anything you want me to do, this is not for me, it's for Sammy. I can't bear it if anything happens to him, he seems okay here. Please, Bobby."

Bobby stared at Dean with an utter look of disbelief on his face.

"Stupid ass! What do you think, I was gonna throw the both of you out of here on your asses? Is that all you take me for? Sam's more than someone I know, he's like my own boy. And you too, don't you forget that for a minute. You can stay for a month and the month after that and more if you want to. Damnit, Dean."

After that rant, Bobby took a slow breath, he was not an open person and that speech made him awkward. One look at Dean's face though, and all inhibitions flew away. The kid had tears in his eyes, looking at Bobby gratefully.

"Thanks, Bobby. You don't know just how much that means to me. Sammy needs this, Bobby, more than anything I can give him. I just wish that... I don't know, Bobby, he will be fine, won't he?"

And as a tear ran down Dean's cheek, Bobby pulled him into a tight embrace.

* * *

Sam opened his eyes slowly. The last bout of darkness seemed to take a huge toll on him. He wondered why his arms and legs felt like lead, he couldn't move them at all. A dull ache throbbed through his body and the light filtering in through the window hurt his head.

Wait, window? Slowly, he became aware that he was on a couch, rolled up in blankets in a place that seemed very familiar. Bobby's place? Why was he in Bobby's place all of a sudden?

His mouth opened, but nothing came out, a slight croak escaping as he expelled air from his lungs. Shutting his mouth again, he tried to take in everything around him. Why was he at Bobby's?

Suddenly, terror filled him, followed with an eerie sense of calm. The terror because he realized that Dean and his Dad were at Bobby's place, and if they came back and found him there, they would probably kill him this time. The sense of calm came with the realization that he had given up on life. If Dean wanted him dead, that's what Dean would have.

* * *

Phew! That sure took a load of his mind. Bobby was okay with them staying, which would mean that Sam would be taken care of. He turned back to the house, still surprised over the sudden embrace.

As he entered, he heard a small noise. His heart beat faster and he raced into the small study where Sammy was lying down on the couch. Stepping closer, his heart skipped a beat when he realized Sam was looking at him. Not just staring, actually looking at him. Dean just stared in shock, unable to move, rooted to the spot. Sam opened his mouth to speak.

And that's when Dean shattered. The first words he heard after a whole month from the person that he loved more than life itself was this:

"It's o...ok. I, I won't... run anymore... You can finish this. Kill... Kill me, De."

He couldn't say whether it was the use of his childhood nickname or the absurd request that did it, but the last thing Dean remembered was the floor rushing up to meet his face.

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What do you think? Review please, it helps me a lot!


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